The Mystery of Time
by Amaquieria
Summary: Peculiar objects begin to appear in Holmes’s Sitting room and Evelyn keeps loosing stuff. It seems that interdimensional travel is not so impossible as it seems. Who'd of thunk. Multiple personality disorders and gender issues, woot. CU
1. A Picture Says a Thousand Words

Summary: Peculiar objects begin to appear in Holmes's Sitting room and Evelyn keeps loosing stuff.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes unfortunately, but I do own Evelyn.

A/N: I got this idea from another story involving post-it notes and decided I wanted to do my own thing. I wanted to see what else you could drop into Sherlock Holmes. I don't really know where this story will go, but I have a vague idea. I hope it isn't a mary sue per se, but it may evolve into one. I haven't decided. The chapters will be very similar about Evelyn losing something and Holmes and Watson's reaction, but at some point the rift will get worse and soon more than just objects will be involved.

A/N: I write for my enjoyment, so updates will be on a when-I-feel-like-it basis. Reviews are welcomed though neither encouraged or discouraged, It's completely up to you. Comments are dooly noted, suggestions taken under consideration, and criticisms criticized. I am a proven pyromaniac, so flames are well received, but please show some intelligence in your hatred or I may have to lower my opinion of humanity. I don't read a whole lot of Sherlock Holmes, he tends to annoy me, but I do enjoy some of the stories. If there is anything you feel I may have said wrong, spelled wrong, or done wrong, feel free to let me know. I don't even think anyone ever reads these author notes, I don't. If you are reading this than Kudos to you and I hope I have offended as it is not my intention to baby anyone.

Onward.

**THE MYSTERY OF TIME**

**Chapter 1: A Picture says a Thousand Words**

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Present Day California**

In a dim room, a woman hunches over a mess of papers as the evening light illuminates her long, black, silky hair, half done up in a bun with a few loose strands framing her face.

She sighs as she pulls off her rectangular glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. Leaning back, her vivid green eyes squint to read the clock.

Slowly she stands up to stretch, reaching her full six feet and two inches. Evelyn has always been tall and skinny, but never had any interest in being a model despite the pressure from both her family and friends. Her mother is a very successful model and actress, even during pregnancy, and her father is the owner of a very successful technology corporation most likely to be inherited by her twin brother, Eric.

But Evelyn wasn't interested any of that. Her dream is to be a successful mystery writer, at least for the moment it is. Thus her current circumstance of slaving over her must current research, Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Caron Doyle.

Day in and day out she slaves over the must famous mystery novels, analyzing everything from writing style to content trying to piece together what makes a good mystery novel. Taking such measures may be unnecessary, but Evelyn has always been known for going to extremes to make sure she does her best with whatever her latest obsession is.

Her father says it's because she's too smart, but her mother thinks it has to do with an inability to stay focused on anything for very long. She never really was the favorite child, Eric was and still is. Ever since he was five, he's always wanted to be a successful business man like his father. Of course that made his father proud, and he has doted on the boy ever since. As for Evelyn's mother, she was always more interested in acting and when Evelyn lost interest in her acting lessons, her mother lost interest in her, even though she made Evelyn continue the lessons in hopes that she may change her mind.

Without her parent's watchful eye, Evelyn became free to just about whatever interest her, as long as it kept her out of her parent's hair. So while her brother became this serious, cold and rude person only interested in profit and stocks, Evelyn became a serious, cold, and passionate person who found joy in perfecting many eclectic talents.

Over the years she became a well known pianist, violinist, and harpist as well as a contortionist, a black belt, and an expert linguist in several different languages. Now she wanted to become a writer, but not just any writer, a mystery writer.

After having stretched her unused muscles, Evelyn walks out of the dark study to make a quick dinner.

As she pulls out various items for a salad she catches sight of a yellow envelope on her counter. Curious, she walks over and picks it up. On the back side it says Kobak in blue block letters.

"Ahhh, that's right." She says as she remembers that these are pictures she selected to put in her scrapbook about her recent trip to Europe. Deciding to go through them again one more time after dinner, she picks up the packet and places it among her piles of Sherlock Holmes notes in her study.

Unfortunately, by the time Evelyn had finished her dinner, her mother decided to unexpectedly stop by to "check-up" on her daughter, or as Evelyn liked to put it, stick her nose where it doesn't belong while trying to convince her to try out for this film or that theatre.

Once Evelyn got her mother to leave, she decided it was too late to do much else and headed for bed.

When morning came, Evelyn went to her study, only to find her pictures gone. Assuming her mother took them, she set about to retrieving them, never suspecting what was really taking place.

**Sherlock Holmes Day**

I carefully went down to the sitting room which Holmes and I share, mildly anticipating finding Holmes in one of his moods. It had been several days now since Holmes had received a good mystery and I was half expecting to find him wallowing in a sea cocaine; however, upon opening the door, I was rather surprised to find him sitting up right in his favorite chair with his chin resting on his steepled fingers. I could see his piercing grey eyes clearly through the smoke that was billowing from his pipe. He seemed deep in thought, so I assumed he must have come into commission of a very good mystery, for which I was quite glad as it saved him from his wretched habit for the time being.

Deciding that Holmes would address me when ready, I set about to enjoying Mrs. Hudson breakfast while reading the morning paper.

A few minutes after finishing my meal I heard Holmes stand up. Folding my paper to the side, I watched him walk over to the desk where he picked up what looked like a thick, bright-yellow envelope. Turning around, Holmes then handed it to me.

"My dear Watson, take a look at this and tell me what you think."

I took the envelope carefully and began to inspect the outside while Holmes sat down to observe. I noticed that the envelope was of a very bright yellow material, made in a fashion I was unfamiliar with. When I flipped it over I noticed big blue letters that read "Kobak". I wasn't sure what this stood for as I had never heard the name before. Opening up the envelope, I noticed that it contained several thick sheets of precisely cut, rectangular paper, or at least I assumed it was paper. I pulled out the stack only to be surprised by what I saw. Right there in front of me was a bright, colorful, and vibrant picture of the Eiffel tower on a bright sunny day.

Completely shocked I looked up at Holmes.

"My word Holmes, where did you get these pictures?!? I've never seen the likes of them. There is so much color, it's like you are really there."

Holmes stood up abruptly as he marched toward the window, looking out it in a manner unique to him.

I turned back to the stack of pictures I held, completely baffled by what I was seeing. There were pictures of things I had never seen before and probably couldn't even begin to describe.

Holmes turned around again to look at me while pulling out his pipe.

"That is the mystery Watson. I have no idea where these colorful photos came from. They were lying here on my desk this morning when I came down for breakfast and Mrs. Hudson assures me that no one came in during the night to drop anything off."

"Do you think someone snuck them in here as a way of requesting your help?"

"Ahh, my dear Watson, so you would think, but tell me, what person would sneak into a place to ask for help? No, what I think we have here is someone trying to hide a discovery and just happened to be the fortune resident of choice."

"Oh, that would make sense. Imagine what a stir it would create to know one could have colored photos rather than black and white."

"Percisely, my dear Watson."

"But tell me Holmes, why would they hide it somewhere where it could get discovered?"

"A very good question Watson, one which I believe I can answer. It is very much like separating a lock and a key, by themselves they are quite useless, but together it could be a fortune. What our young fellow did was try to remove whatever relation he might have with the photos. By discarding them, he removes any affiliation to them. Simple as that"

"I see. That does make sense, but what about that strange name, Kobak."

Holmes waved his hand like it was frivolity as he sat down. "It could be everything or nothing. I need more facts to determine the true significance of the name. For all we know, it could merely be a way to distinguish that stack from all the rest if there are more."

I returned to examining the picture while Holmes cleaned out his pipe. I thought many of the objects in the pictures were quite peculiar as well as the clothing the people were wearing. I asked Holmes what he thought of it.

"I don't know what to make of the contents of the pictures. It is all very peculiar."

The subject was then dropped as Mrs. Hudson led Mr. Lestrade into the room and I set the pictures aside on the end table. It became apparent that Holmes had a new case to solve and I eagerly followed along, putting the strange photos to the back of my mind.


	2. The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Summary: Peculiar objects begin to appear in Holmes's Sitting room and Evelyn keeps loosing stuff.

Disclaimer: No own Holmes. Go away. SLAM

I got this idea from another story involving post-it notes and decided I wanted to do my own thing. I wanted to see what else you could drop into Sherlock Holmes. I don't really know where this story will go, but I have a vague idea. I hope it isn't a mary sue per se, but it may evolve into one. I haven't decided. The chapters will be very similar about Evelyn losing something and Holmes and Watson's reaction, but at some point the rift will get worse and soon more than just objects will be involved.

**THE MYSTERY OF TIME**

**Chapter 2: The Pen is Mightier than the Sword**

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Present Day California – Evelyn POV**

This day has been a most delightful day. After hounding down my mother for several hours, I finally found her only to discover that she was as clueless as she usually is, meaning she didn't have my photos, so I had to arrange for reprints of my pictures. When I got to the photo center the man behind the counter looked to be quite stoned and didn't seem to comprehend much of what I was saying, if any at all.

After several hours of arguing and yelling, I was finally able to arrange for reprints and was told to come back the next day. I went to my car to drive home, except my car wasn't there. I fear the Gods must like stealing my stuff.

I called the police to report the theft, but they refused to take any information over the phone, something about assuring the integrity of my claim. I ended up waiting for a police officer to come get me and take me to the station were I could fill out an auto-theft claim form; however, when I got down there, it turned out that they had just run out of forms and asked if I wouldn't mind waiting until tomorrow.

Seeing as how I had no other option, I left the police department and hailed a cab, but before I could even get in a man rushed in from the other side and stole my cab.

Now, I'm not normally a superstitious person, but there comes a point when even the sanest being must put her foot down at the absurdity of it all. If I ever found out who stole my pictures, I was going to make sure they regretted every minute of it.

After some time I was finally able to make it home and surprisingly in one piece. It was sometime around three in the afternoon, so I decided to work on my study of Doyle's works before heading to dinner with a blind date. I don't usually do blind dates, but I lost a bet to my brother. What can I say.

At sometime around six I decided to get ready. As I got up I remembered I would need to pick up my pictures and file a claim tomorrow. Finding a piece of paper and a pen, I wrote down the reminder and then set it among my notes where I knew I would see it. To make sure it didn't blow away, I set my wire mesh cup of pens on the top to hold it down.

Once everything was set, I made myself more presentable and left around seven.

The date was horrible. The man must have been forty years older than me and had a disturbing habit of always licking his lips. I knew there was a reason I avoided blind dates. It was nine when I got back, but I was too angry at my brother to really feel tired, so I set to planning my revenge. I went to my study and used the computer to search for single men looking for other single men. After finding a few, I went to grab a pen to write down some information, but my pens were gone.

After the day I had, I began to panic. Why did I always lose everything! I searched all around my computer and didn't find a thing. Just as I was about to give up hope, I spotted my wire mesh cup on top of my pile of Holmes books.

I felt like such an idiot.

I didn't even bother to turn off the computer and headed for bed. A good night sleep is all I need.

Or so I thought.

**Sherlock Holmes Day**

It appeared that Holmes would be much engaged for a while and I was quite relieved to know he would be saved from the Cocaine for a little while longer.

I turned out that a young man had come to the police quite distraught, claiming that his house was haunted. Of course Holmes scoffed at the idea, but took an interest in the man's case when it turned out that his half destroyed home had no sign of forced entry.

The poor man was in tears and very distraught over the whole event.

After finding signs that a woman was involved in the mess, Holmes decided to set about questioning all the women Mr. Davenhoe knew, which turned out to be very few. He rather liked keeping to himself and had only been involved in a few failed relationships.

I declined the opportunity to accompany Mr. Holmes further in his investigation as my leg was giving me trouble and I decided to turn in for the night.

The next morning found me alone in the sitting room. Mrs. Hudson informed me that Holmes had not returned that night and I could only assume he was still on the trail of his latest case.

As I sat down to enjoy my breakfast, a bright gleam caught by eye. I looked over to Holmes desk to see a most peculiar sight. There, gleaming in the morning sun, was what looked like a cup made out of a shiny silver metal filled with an odd assortment of sticks, some of which looked like they might be fountain pens.

Curiosity got the better of me and I decided to investigate the strange object that I was quite sure wasn't there the night before. Perhaps Holmes had stopped by to drop it off without informing Mrs. Hudson.

I picked up the cup only to notice it resting on top of a piece of paper that had a handwritten message that said:

To Do List

Pick up reprints

File stolen car claim

It was clearly someone's chore list, but the tasks completely baffled me. I didn't recognize the paper as it was rectangular and bright yellow with evenly spaced horizontal blue lines. There wasn't any watermark on it stating from whence it came. I decided to leave it be until Holmes returned.

I turned my attention back to the original object that had grabbed my attention. The cup looked to be made of very fine craftsmanship as did the six objects inside. Two of them I instantly recognized as pencils, although they were of exceptional quality and finely sharpened. Three other's look to be fountain pens, but not. Placing the cup back on the desk, I drew out one pen that was dark green with a gold colored clip and tip. At first I tried to pull it apart like most fountain pens, but it didn't budge. Thinking that perhaps it was screwed together, I began to twist it, only to be surprised when an even pointer, silver tip came out of the gold tip.

I touched the tip as it looked very round and smooth, and was much displeased when it left a black line on the tip of my finger. At least it proved my early assumption that it was a pen, although certainly unlike any I had ever seen.

Having satisfied my curiosity for the time being, I returned the pen to the cup and awaited Holmes return to see his conclusions of strange objects.

It wasn't until around afternoon tea that Holmes returned. He seemed very agitated.

"I say Holmes, what has got you so worked up."

"Not worked up my dear Watson, just very confused. The case of the haunted man has become most peculiar."

Taking a seat in his favorite chair, Holmes began to retell to me his most intriguing case.

"After you left my friend, Mr. Davenhoe became most insistent that I stay the night to witness the ghostly apparition. Hoping to catch the perpetrator red handed I agreed to his request. While Mr. Davenhoe retired to his rooms, I took up vigil in his study where most of the damage had taken place. As I searched for any more clues that may be of use, I was quite startled when a hand touched my shoulder. When I turned around, it turned out to be Mr. Davenhoe, except for some odd reason he had decided to dress up as a woman, wig and all."

Holmes paused to light his pipe and then continued on.

"When I questioned Mr. Davenhoe as to the meaning of his appearance, he seemed quite confused. He then began insisting that his name was Miss Marietta Wilson and that I was trespassing on private property."

Holmes gave a small snort at that comment.

"The most peculiar thing was he seemed totally convinced that he was Miss Marietta Wilson. Though what intrigued me most was his warning that I should leave before I woke up Master Jenson, who apparently doesn't take kindly to intruders. Deciding it was best to leave I head to one of my safe houses for the evening while going over my plan for today. I started with interviewing the three women Mr. Davenhoe had expressed as his only relations."

Holmes then stood as he strode over to the window, calmly pulling on his pipe.

"It was most intriguing. All three women ended the relationship for the same reason. It appears that Mr. Davenhoe was a very nice and honorable man who held all of the traits of a true gentlemen, but when visiting his home for a cup of tea he would change. After he returned with the tea he became very violent, hitting the women and throwing them about all while accusing them of intruding upon his home and his privacy. All three women showed no interest in having anything to do with Mr. Davenhoe again, even to destroy his home."

Holmes reseated himself and began to clean out his pipe as he finished.

"It is clear that Mr. Davenhoe and Master Jenson are one in the same, but the question then becomes why play this little charade?"

I sat and contemplated the mystery as well, but I didn't know quite what to make of it either. It seemed very strange to me that someone would parade around as different people.

I was about to ask Holmes what his next steps would be when he purposefully strode toward his desk.

"What is this Watson?" he asked while holding up the metal cup I had found earlier.

"I was hoping you could tell me. I found it sitting there this morning when I came down for breakfast and thought perhaps you had dropped it by."

"I've never seen it in my life." He then picked up the paper as well and took the items to his chair where he could more comfortably examine them. Deciding to let him be for awhile I proceeded to entertain myself with an interesting book I had found from Holmes' bookcase.

It was perhaps a couple of hours later that Holmes finished his inspection and I set down my book.

"So, what do you make of it Holmes?"

"It is quite extraordinary. These two items, as you can clearly see are pencils of exceptional quality."

"This item." He said, holding up a long, skinny rod with a rounded tip, "extends itself." He then proceeded to pull the tip and the rod stretched out to almost a yard in length. "I can only conclude that its use is to point at objects, like cities on a map."

"And these last three items are pens, but of a most curious construction and materials" He then selected a long, white pen with a blue cap. "Take this one for example. The material is light and flexible and very durable, but I do not know of what material it consists. It is unlike anything I've seen before." He then proceeded to dismantle the pen.

"If you look inside you can see that the ink is held within a thinner, clear tube of the same material. It is most curious."

He then proceeded to replace everything to the desk except the paper.

"The cup is clearly made of thin metal wires, intricately woven together and while of exceptional workmanship, there doesn't seem to be anything peculiar about it. Now as for this paper, it intrigues me the most."

Pulling out his magnifying glass, he began to closely inspect the yellow lined paper.

"The paper is made of fine quality though unmarked as to its creator and the lines are perfectly spaced. Whoever made this paper put a great deal of effort into it."

I agreed with Holmes very much so, but one thing still bothered me, "Holmes, if someone went to such great lengths to make the paper, then why use it for something as common as a task list?"

"An excellent question Watson. Perhaps the content will give us a clue. The first task is to pick up reprints."

"Reprints of what?" I asked.

Holmes seemed to sit in quiet contemplation when suddenly his eyes lit up. "Watson! You wouldn't happen to still have those colorful photos would you?"

"Why yes I do," I said as I reached for the envelope that was still sitting on the end table.

"Holmes, you don't think that note and those pictures are related, do you?"

"Why yes, I believe they are, but the question is how."

Holmes solemnly sank back into his chair as he considered the strange items.

Feeling tired by the whole business, I decided to go for a walk. Holmes turned down my invitation as he began to inspect the pictures closely.

After my walk I felt much refreshed and ready for bed. Holmes was still in the sitting room, although now he had the photos sorted into five different piles. When I suggested he should head for bed, but he grumbled something and waved my suggestion away with his hand.

Deciding to leave him be, I turned in for the night with one last thought on my mind; I wonder what tomorrow will bring.


	3. A Plan is Hatched

Summary: Peculiar objects begin to appear in Holmes's Sitting room and Evelyn keeps loosing stuff.

Disclaimer: If I owned Holmes I would make him my personal slave to cook and clean and just about anything else women do………yes, even were a dress just because I'm cruel like that, MWUHAHAHAHA……..sigh……but sadly I don't own Holmes so he's home free…….for the time being. evil smirk

A/N: Feel free to give suggestions on what I should drop in next. If I particularly like it, I just might use it if I can. BTW if you need help picturing what my characters are like I can give a little help, but you have to know what I'm talking about or it won't make any sense. So if you know what I'm talking about than Kudos to you, otherwise your outta luck. Evelyn is sort of a dark mysterious type of personality and I based much of her off of Sailor Pluto (My second favorite scout). Eric is a bit like cross between Severus Snape, Voldemort, and Sesshomaru, but with vivid blue eyes (I don't think I mentioned that). The mother and father are there just for the background. They're very shallow characters. Mostly I plan to focus on Holmes, with Evelyn's stuff as a catalyst, but there's nothing quite like a good sibling rivalry. If you're actually reading this insanely long and rather pointless author's note, I pity your life. Enjoy.

**THE MYSTERY OF TIME**

**Chapter 3: A Plan is Hatched**

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Present Day California **

The morning found Evelyn glaring a hole through her desk.

Her cup of pens—gone. Her reminder—gone. All of it was just gone. The only thing left in its place was her pile of notes on the Sherlock Holmes stories.

I can't imagine who in their right mind would steal stuff from off my notes, but leave everything else behind.

Now I like to consider my self a very intelligent person, but even I couldn't see the sense in this situation. It appeared that whatever was left on my desk would disappear overnight, except for my notes and Sherlock Holmes books.

I decided to test this theory, but first I would need a few items.

I decided to pick up my photos and file my claim while on my way to my brother's office. What better place to get good, high end technology than at a business that specializes in designing it. I ran a few more errands before making my way to the tall black office building.

Techallic Industries, co. The building was as bleak as its name. If I didn't know better, I would say my father and brother invented the color black.

Stepping up to the revolving doors, I girded my loins. This was a war zone I was entering and it was time to face the battle.

I found my brother's office easily enough seeing as it was as high as humanly possible which probably bruised his ego since it wasn't as high as he wanted it to be.

I didn't even bother to knock and just walked in. He was talking on the phone with his back to me, so I decided to make myself comfortable.

Selecting a chair, I leaned back and propped by bare feet up on his immaculate glass-top, black mahogany desk. It just thrills the imagination the amount of creativity that goes into my brother's office. He has one black stapler that sits next to a black pen holder filled with black pens with the company's logo on it in metallic silver. All of this is next to a black in and out box that sits on the far corner. The other corner holds his silver laptop.

That just about covers the most exciting part.

He was still talking on the phone, so I picked up one of his pens and began tapping it on his glass-top, slightly hoping to chip.

I was focusing do much on my task of creating a crack that I jumped when Eric slammed his hand down on the tapping pen. I looked up into his stormy blue eyes and met him glare for glare.

"What brings you to my office, sister. Did you enjoy your date so much you wanted to go out with Mr. Goddenson again?" He sneered at me, showing off his perfect pearly whites. They really should be black.

I smiled back at him as I dropped my feet to the ground and leaned forward, "Of course not, I came here to deal another bet."

Cocking an eyebrow, he leaned back clearly interested. With a wicked smile he replied, "What? You haven't taken enough of a beating yet? What's your proposal?"

I idly played with the pen from earlier as I began, "I'll bet you can not accept to do a bet without first knowing the parameters."

"Interesting. And what do I get if I take you up on this bet?"

"Remember that party you went to and I happen to snap a photo of you "wooing" the prime minister's daughter."

"Is this black mail?" he ground out while glaring menacingly at me.

"No it isn't. I promise to give you all the pictures and negatives I have of that photo."

"What good is a promise?"

I cast him a nasty look, "Then get it in legalized writing if you must."

"So if I accept your bet to do a bet where I don't know the details, Then I get those pictures."

"Yes."

"What do you get?"

"Your latest, most strongest, and most powerful set of walkie-talkie."

"That's insane. Do you know how much those things are worth? "

"Take it or leave it"

Silently, he brooded over it while grinding his teeth together in agitation.

Finally, he pulled out a piece of paper. I wrote up the document and signed my name. Eric then read carefully over it before signing his name as well.

"Alright, I accept. What's the bet?"

I smiled wickedly at him, "I'm sorry but you already lost."

"What!!"

"I bet that you couldn't accept a bet without knowing what it was. This was a bet to accept an undefined bet, but since you agreed, you accepted a defined bet; Therefore, you lost."

If looks could kill, I would be dead ten times over. He silently sat there brooding over what I said before storming out of his office. He returned moments later with my new set of walkie-talkies. Shoving them into my hands he told me leave or regret that I was ever born.

I love getting the better of him.

I smiled joyfully as I made my way back to my condo. I had a plan to set in motion.

First I set up video camera I had bought on one of my errands in a corner of my study where it could watch my desk. After testing it to make sure everything was in working order I set about to phase two.

I checked the walkies to make sure they worked and then left one of them sitting on my notes on top of my desk. Just like all the other items that disappeared. I then left to my room where I had the monitor watching and recording everything.

I must have dozed off because I woke up to see that it was now two in the morning. I turned my head back toward the monitor, only to be met with the sight of a missing walkie.

I smiled, It worked.

-------------------------------

A/N: Cliffie!! I'm so evil, Kukukuku. Walkie-talkies and two-way radios are basically the same thing, right? I like the term walkie-talkies better. It reminds me of being five years old. The story is probably going faster than I would like, but I can't help myself. I don't lead the story, it leads me and this is where it decided to go. Oh well.


	4. Chit Chat Patty Whack

Summary: Peculiar objects begin to appear in Holmes's Sitting room and Evelyn keeps loosing stuff.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes…………que triste y pobrecita.

A/N: Sorry about my POV change. I'll try to be more careful next time or warn you before hand. When I find the initiative, I'll fix that chapter maybe. I'll apologize now for miss spellings or weird spellings. I use a tablet to write my stories so I'm writing and the compute is interpreting my handwriting and sometimes it can be quite stupid and I'm only human so I don't always catch the mistakes, but I try. All corrections, no matter how nit-picky, are accepted and I will try to correct them when I find time. I hate editing, you can ask my English teacher, so I tend to write and publish without really checking myself. hehehe.

A/N: I'm not entirely sure how walkie-talkies work per se, but this how they work in my story, essentially it's like a speaker phone. The walkie-talkies are suppose to be this new high tech invention that can reach just about anywhere for hundreds of miles. The idea was Evelyn wanted to be sure she could reach the thieves no matter how far they went.

**THE MYSTERY OF TIME**

**Chapter 4: Chit Chat Patty-whack**

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Present Day California **

I decided to check the recording first to see if I knew who the perpetrator was. I fast forwarded looking for anything out of place, when suddenly the video blipped and the walkie-talkie was gone. I rewound and played over the blip slowly.

At exactly 1:32 am the papers on my desk begin to glow and then all I got was static for 10 seconds before the picture came back, but without my walkie-talkie.

How very puzzling. Either someone disrupted my camera and the light was an effect of it, or something very weird was going on. Something weird was going on anyway. I mean who in their right mind steals cheap office supplies and non-incriminating photos?

Feeling very frustrated, I snatched up my walkie. It was time to establish communication with the bane of my study.

It may have been junk, but it was my junk and I wanted answers.

**Sherlock Holmes Day**

Sherlock Holmes came running into my room very early in the morning. He seemed quite excited about something and was determined that I should wake up to hear it.

Grumbling about the hour, I followed Holmes into our sitting room.

He began telling me something about the pictures being from around Europe and formed a pattern, but I must admit I wasn't really paying attention as my mind was still on the bed I had just left.

Just as Holmes was about to come to his conclusion, there was a very bright light from his desk. It seemed to last forever and was so bright I had to shield my eyes behind Holmes' chair.

After the light disappeared, I had to blink a few times to clear my vision. Holmes came out from under the table were he had decided to take refuge.

There on Holmes' desk was the must peculiar object. It was a black, oblong shaped object with a strange silver protrusion on its side.

Holmes and I didn't know what to make of it. I decided to stay as far away as possible from the object and took a seat on the couch where I could watch Holmes.

First he observed the object from a distance by walking aroma the desk. Then, after a little while, he picked up the black object and began to turn it around in his hands, examining it from all angles.

Setting the object down, he come over to the chair and took out his pipe. Clearly this was a very puzzling event.

"What do you make of it Holmes? "I said. "Objects don't just appear out of thin air do they?"

"Of course not Watson. Don't be absurd. There is a simple, logical answer for what we witnessed as well as for the purpose of that object."

Holmes then stood up and strode over to the desk to once again pick up the object.

"I am unfamiliar with the material, but it seems that the object is fairly new as there we no signs of wear…"

"Hello?"

Surprised, Holmes dropped the object as it began to speak and I jumped up from the couch. We both stared at it suspiciously.

"Helloooo." It said again. The voice was a melodious soprano and most decidedly female, a very annoyed female.

There was a short pause.

"Don't tell me your brain is so infinitesimal you can't even comprehend how to push the silver button and respond to my greeting."

Holmes' eyes darkened at the insult to his intelligence, especially by a woman, that he scooped up the device, deliberately pressed the silver protrusion, and began belittling the woman as well.

"Now see here miss… "

"Evelyn."

"…you have… what?"

"My name is Evelyn. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"No, that will not be necessary Miss Evelyn."

"Ah, an gentleman now are we?"

"Of course I am a gentleman," Holmes sputtered indigently,"which is more than I can say for you."

"I see no reason to be courteous to thieves."

"Thieves!! You are mistaken. We have stolen nothing."

"So you have an accomplice."

Clearly the lack of sleep and the strangeness of the whole situation were getting to Holmes as he began to lose his temper.

He was about to respond when the Miss Evelyn beat him to it.

"Tell you what," she said calmly," I'll make a deal with you. If you return all my pictures and my pens, and promise to leave me be, I won't report you to the police."

Holmes seemed to calm a little. "Those are your belongings?"

The woman didn't respond right away.

"Yes." she said. "You sound surprised."

"Of course I'm surprised. It's not everyday that the strange objects of a woman just appear on my desk."

There was another pause as the woman digested this information. Holmes still seemed quite perturbed by it all, but was calming under the woman's willingness to listen.

"What's your name?" she finally asked.

Holmes was a bit put off by the question as he realized he had yet to introduce himself. Taking a seat in his chair, he propped an elbow on the arm to hold the device at a more manageable position.

"I do apologize for my rudeness Miss Evelyn." The woman huffed in annoyance on the other end. "My name is Mr. Sherlock Holmes, private investigator."

There was deafening pause and then there was a light chuckle form the device which soon turned into intense laughter that soon left the Miss Evelyn gasping for breath.

Holmes bristled at the thought of being laughed at.

"And let me guess, Dr. John Watson is there too," amusement evident in her voice.

"Yes, he is," Holmes responded quite sharply.

This set the woman off into another peal of laughter as if our names were some kind of hilarious joke.

Clearly annoyed Holmes responded, "I don't see what you find so amusing, my dear, but surely our names do not warrant such a response.

Calming slightly the woman responded, "I should have known that this was a farce of some kind. Did my brother hire you to pull off this stunt or are you just doing it for the mere pleasure of raising my ire?"

"I must confess I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Come now _Mr.__Holmes_, if that really is your name. You and I both know that Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are nothing more than fictional characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Even if they did exist, they wouldn't be alive today seeing as it is over one hundred years after their time period." Her voice had lost all amusement as she stated this fact quite seriously.

Quite frankly I was extremely baffled by it. Was the woman insinuating that she was from the future? It seemed quite impossible, but after I considered all the strange objects that had been discovered on Holmes desk, it did seem believable.

Holmes on the other hand seemed to be debating with himself on her sincerity as well as how to prove is existence as the woman seemed relatively dubious to the idea.

"Miss Evelyn…"

"Would you stop that!"

Her response clearly baffled my friend, "Stop what, may I ask?"

"Stop calling me miss. My name is Evelyn and I don't appreciate being patronized like a little girl."

Bewildered again, Holmes responded, "I do apologize….Evelyn." I watch my friend shift uncomfortably at addressing her by her first name, "It was not my intention to offend. It is not customary to address a woman by her first name."

The woman gave derisive snort, "I must admit you do a good job at portraying the character of Mr. Holmes, but I am not a fool. I don't know exactly how you have stolen my things…" suddenly the woman stopped as if she realized something, "Tell me Holmes, were you ever in the room when my things just 'appeared'?"

Curious to her line of questioning, Holmes leaned slightly forward, "Why yes, just now when the strange contraption we are currently communicating through appeared."

"Describe what happened."

Scowling at her commanding tone Holmes told her about his attempts to understand her photos, his retrieval of me, and than the appearance of the bright light which left the most recent object of concern in its wake.

The woman paused for such a long time, I thought that perhaps we had lost her until she surprised both Holmes and me.

"I believe you." Was all she said before the oblong object made a strange noise and the silver protrusion popped out.

Assuming that the conversation was over, Holmes stood up and returned the object to his desk.

He returned to his chair, pulled out his pipe, and became lost in his thoughts.

Being quite confused by these strange events, and feeling the effects of being woken early in the morning, I retired once again to my bed chambers.

My last thoughts, before sleep overcame me, were whether this Evelyn woman really was from the future and what it would mean for Holmes and I.

-----------------

Oo


	5. Oh, The Possibilities!

Summary: Peculiar objects begin to appear in Holmes's Sitting room and Evelyn keeps loosing stuff.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, do to uncontrollable and irreversible circumstances, I am unable to claim the highly prestigious and overly desired position as creator and owner of the infamous Sherlock homes; therefore, I must defer this right and privilege to the decaying mass of flesh and bones formerly known as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, May his soul rest in peace.

A/N: I know my character seems Mary-sueish, but she's not. Multitalented doesn't mean Mary-sue. I myself can play the piano, the Ukulele, and the recorder. I am an artist, a writer, an excellent singer and a computer programmer. I'm not fluent in Spanish, but I know enough to get by (There is someone who is fluent in at least 43 different languages. O.o Talk about brain overload). I am an excellent swimmer and gymnast (except for back bends). I am also a certified cisco network associate. I am good at sewing (Not as good as my mom), painting, drafting, and carpentry. When I meant Mary-sueish I meant Evelyn being this perfect female replica of Holmes, which she isn't, so that Holmes falls madly in love with her. Evelyn doesn't have deductive abilities nor does she care for a good mystery, she just want's to write one. Evelyn's mind doesn't make much sense (like mine) and she more or less jumps to her own conclusions whether they are right or wrong. I'm looking more to annoy Holmes then to have a romance, but then again I go where the story goes.

A/N: Perhaps some more background will help. Evelyn is 25 years old and while growing up, she didn't have her parents telling her to do this or that, but they did encourage her to do whatever fancied her as this kept her out of their hair (My own mom did this to me which is why I've dabbled in so many talents. I even took one karate lesson. .). The only thing pushed on her was acting lessons (her mom's hope), but she did pursue other areas of interest. Evelyn is also a bit of a perfectionist so she likes to do her best at her endeavors. She became known for the few musical instruments she plays because her mom is in the spotlight a lot which also brings focus to her children, so Evelyn got asked to play for various things. As for the several languages, it's actually just four (which counts in my book as several) I just didn't feel it was important enough to mention or list them. They most likely won't play a role in this story, they just fit in her background. Being the daughter of an actress and a businessman causes one to travel, a lot. Essentially, she picked them up out of convenience. I hope this helps a little.

**THE MYSTERY OF TIME**

**Chapter 5: Oh, The Possibilities**

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Present Day California **

I paced back and forth trying to figure the whole situation out. I had heard theories of multiple dimensions as well their relation to our world.

If I remember correctly, there was a philosophical scientist who held the theory that stories, dreams, and the imagination are nothing more than windows into alternate dimensions. He proposed that people of a certain disposition and circumstance would have the right brain frequencies to, in their dreams or imaginations, view other dimensions.

Most people thought his work was ludicrous, but I'm beginning to think he was on to something.

I know for a fact that Sherlock Holmes never existed just as I know for a fact that my things disappear from my desk through some light.

I don't even pretend to understand the laws of physics, so I couldn't even begin to tell how it's possible to travel from one dimension to another, but it's still a possibility.

But then another interesting question, If Holmes is in the past and Doyle saw this past one hundred years ago, how is it possible to connect now to something that was first seen one hundred years ago?

I sighed. My head hurt. This was very confusing.

I didn't want to believe that the man on the other walkie was Sherlock Holmes, but it seemed so reasonable it was ludicrous.

Sitting on my couch, I then put my head into my hands. This was crazy. I pride myself on being smart, but intelligence has little to do with logic.

I went through the facts again.

My things disappear in a flash of light

Holmes confirmed this phenomenon

Alternate dimensions are not out of the realm of possibility, just unproven

Holmes never existed, but may have in another dimension

The place on my desk somehow forms a connection to another dimension (possibly) at 1:32 am

Finally I hardened my resolve. I may not be able to logically prove that I've connected to another dimension, but it makes the most sense to me, so I'm going with that theory.

Nodding my head in finality on the subject, I then moved onto the next matter of business: What to do next?

Standing up, I began to once again pace the room. It was all so very fascinating and confusing, but then I began to comprehend my situation.

If I went with my theory, than that means I actually talked to Sherlock Holmes. The Sherlock Holmes!!!

A wicked smile crossed my face. No one would believe me if I told them, but that doesn't mean I can't indulge myself.

It was time to visit my precious brother again. Two days in a row, I'm going to drive him mad.

That thought only widened my smile.

But for now I headed for bed. I would need my wits about me for later today.

**Sherlock Holmes Day**

Sometimes I wonder if Holmes really is human. When I came down later in the morning he was still up and about and very wide awake.

It would be my guess that the intrusion of Miss Evelyn had him baffled more than he liked, it certainly had me quite confused.

I took my place on the couch as Mrs. Hudson brought us breakfast.

"What are you thinking Holmes? Is it about Miss Evelyn?"

Holmes waved his hand in a dismissal, "I hardly have any facts on the matter of Miss Evelyn, so I have ignored it for the time being. No, I am considering Mr. Davenhoe's intriguing case."

Ah yes, the man that pretended to be more than one person. "Do you know why he plays this little charade?"

Holmes sat down in his chair with a contemplative look on his face. "That is what I plan to find out. I invited Mr. Davenhoe here to ask him a few questions. He should be here any minute now."

Just as Holmes lit his pipe Mrs. Hudson brought in Mr. Davenhoe.

The poor creature was pale and thin and appeared to be extremely skittish. I could only assume that his poor health came from his belief in being haunted as that would make anyone paranoid.

Holmes directed the man to sit in the seat beside me. I pulled out my pad to begin taking notes on Holmes interrogation.

"Mr. Davenhoe, Do you by chance know a Miss Marietta Wilson."

Vigorously shaking his head Mr. Davenhoe replied, "No sir. Never heard of her. Why?"

Waving his hand again, Holmes continued, "Do you know a Master Nelson."

The young man's eyes widened marginally at the name, "Where did you hear that name?"

"Ah, so you do know him?"

"No sir, I don't. But the name appears all over my home. I once found one of my favorite books written in on the first page. It said, 'This book belongs to Master Nelson, only'. I assumed it was the name of the ghost haunting me, but no records of the previous owners of the house ever mentioned a Master Nelson."

Holmes puffed a few times on his pipe as he considered this information.

As Holmes was thinking, the young man dropped his head to his chest. I figured he was disappointed in his inability to help, but as soon as his head went down, it snapped right back up.

Blinking a few times, he addressed Holmes in a slightly higher pitched voice, "Excuse me Mr. Holmes, sir."

He immediately drew Holmes' attention.

Shifting uncomfortably as he blushed and looked at the floor, "I…I might be able to help."

Holmes scrutinized the man before withdrawing his pipe, "Miss Wilson, I presume."

Looking up, the man blushed even more, "Oh yes. I'm so flattered you remembered a simple maid like me."

Now I was completely baffled. What game was the man playing at? Holmes on the other hand seemed to understand the situation completely.

"Who do you work for Miss Wilson?"

"I work for Master Nelson and Mr. Davenhoe. They don't get along very well, so I have to clean up the mess afterwards. Mr. Davenhoe likes to pretend that Master Nelson doesn't exist which always enrages Master Nelson since he's the one in charge. Neither one take much notice to me, of course. "

"You do realizes that you are a man, do you not."

Mr. Davenhoe, or should I say Miss Wilson, shifted uncomfortably again, "Ah…well…yes I'm aware of my male body, but I assure you I am a woman. Nature just made a mistake. If I could I would correct the mistake immediately. You have no idea how embarrassing it is to be a woman in a man's body."

"Could I speak with Master Nelson?"

"I don't know. Master Nelson doesn't take kindly to strangers. He's a very private man."

"I will take my chances."

The man seemed indecisive at first before his head drooped once again. When he lifted it, the eyes that greeted us were hard and stern. He stood up abruptly and snatched Mr. Holmes by the collar before I could even blink.

"Who are you and where have you taken me," the man demanded visciously.

"I assure you Master Nelson that I mean you no harm. I merely wish to ask you a few questions," stated Holmes while carefully removing Mr. Davenhoe's hands, "Would you mind taking a seat?"

Mr. Davenhoe glared at Holmes, but refused to sit down. Instead he took to towering over Holmes.

Seeing as the man wasn't about to respond, Holmes continued, "A Miss Wilson…"

"Who's that?" His eyes had become very suspicious.

"You're maid."

"I don't have a maid. I live by myself except for a pesky intruder, named Mr. Davenhoe, who has invaded my privacy. I never catch him, but I know he's there."

"Yes, Miss Wilson informed me of him."

"Who is Miss Wilson?"

"You're maid."

"I already told you, I don't have a maid. Is she some kind of spy? Have you been spying on me?" The man then grabbed the butter knife from our breakfast tray and made to attack Holmes.

Holmes dove out of his chair to dodge the attack. He then swung his legs and tripped Mr. Davenhoe. The man fell hard to floor and seemed to be winded from the impact.

Holmes then stood up and took a defensive position should the man attack again, but as the man stood up, he began to cry.

Turning toward Holmes and I, I could see the fear and sorrow in his eye.

"I….sob….app..ppolig..gize…sob…M..Mr. Holmes, s…sssir. sob ."

Holmes walked the shaking and crying man toward the couch again. He then sat in his own chair while waiting for the man to calm himself.

After drying his tears Mr. Davenhoe began, "I…sniffle…warned you that Mr.Nelson didn't like strangers. I tried to stop him, but he doesn't pay attention to me. sniffle"

"I understand Miss Wilson. You have been a tremendous help. Why don't you head home for the day and try to keep Mr. Davenhoe and Master Nelson under control."

Nodding, Mr.Davenhoe slowly stood up and made his way out of the sitting room.

After he had left, I looked at Holmes incredulously. "My word, what was all of that."

Relighting his pipe Holmes settled into his chair more comfortably, "It would appear this case is more complicated than I first thought. I can't say I understand how or why, but it is safe to conclude that Mr. Davenhoe, Miss Wilson, and Master Nelson are three very different people in the same body."

"Why Holmes, that's absurd. The man must be acting. It has to be a ruse of some kind."

"No, my dear Watson, the man was not acting. The body language and the eyes were too natural and sincere to be faked. For his own safety I think the man should be instituted, but, since Mr. Davenhoe is unaware of his condition, it will be difficult to convince him of such an endeavor. And all three seem to think the others are completely different persons. It truly is a mystery in and of itself how this man came to be the way he is now."

"I don't know Holmes. It seems rather farfetched if you ask me."

"Come along Watson. I believe a visit to an institution is in store."

Still somewhat dubious to Mr. Holmes' conclusion, I reluctantly grabbed my coat and followed my exuberant friend outside.

A/N: My OC went a little OOC……oops, oh well. Unusual circumstances call for unusual behavior. I can't really fix it since it fits so well, so I'll just let it be. Ya'll probably didn't notice anywho. . This chapter is pretty long compared to the other's but I just Had to get in Mr. Davenhoe's case. Oh if you're wondering, it was inspired by an episode of Psyche I once saw. TTFN.


	6. A Day of Reckoning

Summary: Peculiar objects begin to appear in Holmes's Sitting room and Evelyn keeps loosing stuff.

Disclaimer: Holmes ain't my homie, you dig.

A/N: I hate these things, don't you. I don't know why I write them. sigh The wanderings of a delusional mind, Visit my profile page if you want proof of that. o Anywho, here's another chapter and yes MeGoobie this case does tie into the story in a very twisted, convoluted way that I didn't realize until last night. I don't have this story planned out at all really, so it kind of just goes where it takes me and last night, my story came to me in a vision and whispered sweet inspirations into my mind. I now have a clearer image of where the story is taking me…….I hope. This will probably lead to some inconsistencies (which I will try at all cost to avoid), so I leave it up to the readers to be my sentinels. Enjoy.

**THE MYSTERY OF TIME**

**Chapter 6: A Day of Reckoning**

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Present Day California **

I woke up just as the sun crested on the horizon.

Carpe Diem, that was my first thought.

My mind seemed to enlighten with the rising sun and I came to a startling realization. What if the strange inter-dimensional occurrence in my study went away? What if tonight is the last night?

I had to seize this opportunity while I had it, but how? What could I do to really make it worth my while?

Forgetting about visiting my brother, I puzzled on this question while preparing for the day. I began to take notice of my life. The condo was too quite, the air too thick to breathe, and my life was purposeless.

There comes a time in every man and woman's life when they wake up one morning questioning their own existence. Today was no different for me. As I looked around, I realized that no one depended on my existence. I depended on my parent's affluence, but aside from that I didn't depend on anyone else.

What have I really done for my life?

Sure I was well traveled and seen and done many things, but where have I not been? What have I not seen?

Clear as the morning sun came my answer: another dimension.

Shocked by my own thoughts, I dropped the spoon I was holding for my breakfast. I could travel to another dimension. It worked for my things, why couldn't work for me.

But…what about my life here?

I looked around once more and once again I thought: Carpe Diem. Seize the day. When opportunities cross your path, you must seize them or risk losing them.

Harding my resolve once again I made my choice. I would seize this chance and go to another dimension. I didn't know what I would do there, but that was no different than my life now. I would just do what I have always done and go wherever life takes me.

This time was one of life's little opportunities that could change my life forever. I f I didn't do it now, I may never get the chance again.

With that, I forgot about breakfast and began making preparations for my adventure. I didn't know how long I would be gone, it could be forever, but I knew one thing, a woman has no place in the society of the nineteenth century.

That would be the first thing to change.

I would need money. That would be trickier, but, considering the similarities between Holmes time and my times own past, I could possibly find coin collections with suitable currency. I may bring gold ingots anyways, just in case.

I would also need a more suitable wardrobe.

With these first few tasks in mind, I headed out to my first stop, the beauty salon.

It's about time I cut my hair, anyhow.

**Sherlock Holmes Day**

I may be a doctor, but even I have qualms about the insane. There is just something disconcerting in knowing that there are incurable sicknesses of the mind.

When Holmes and I entered the institution, I could help but be a little skittish. The air in the place oozes with an eerie feeling that makes one's hair stand on end.

Of course Holmes, seemed completely unaffected by it all.

I thought at first that he may be here to institutionalize Mr. Davenhoe, even though I'm fairly certain it's all a ruse despite Holmes assertion that it is not, but Holmes informed me that he wished to learn more about Mr. Davenhoe's condition as he had never heard of it.

It seemed like the end of a long and scary journey when we did finally reached Dr. Halls office.

The room was fairly spacious and seemed quite comfortable with a nice warm lighting. A complete contrast to the dim hallways we had just left.

As soon as we came in Dr. Halls stood up to greet us, "Ah Mr. Holmes, I've been expecting you and this must be your friend, Dr. Watson. It is good to meet you. Please sit."

Directing us to a pair of cushioned chairs, Holmes and I took a seat as Dr. Halls resumed his spot behind his desk. He was a fairly filled out man, but not enough to be called plump, with large hairy arms and a pair of large pudgy hands. His head was bald, except for a small ring or gray just above his ears. He also had a black, thin mustache that curled upwards at the end. He wasn't a very intimidating man by looks, but he certainly held an air of authority and sternness.

"In your telegram, Holmes, you mentioned an encounter you had with a man whom you felt might be suffering from some kind of mental illness. Would you mind describing the symptoms?"

Settling back into the chair while crossing his legs, Holmes began telling Dr. Halls all about our strange encounter this morning with Mr. Davenhoe. As the story progressed, Dr. Halls face seemed to darken more and more. By the time Holmes finished the tale, His face had become hard and readable while his eyes held the tinge of someone whose intelligence has just been insulted. I should know as I've seen it my friend's eyes more times than I can count.

Holmes than concluded his retelling, "And so, Dr. Halls, with all do respect, I have come here to find out more about Mr. Davenhoe's condition."

With a great leap, Dr. Halls stood up and slammed his hands upon his desk. His face flushed in indignation, "Mr Holmes, How dare you waste my valuable time with an idiotic assumption that one man's antics are a sign of insanity. More than likely this young fellow is suffering from a severe case of loneliness and only seeks to draw attention to himself as a means of satisfying this void. I suggest you ignore him and be on your way. I have better things to do than address every assumption of insanity that comes my way."

"I assure you, I do not make assumptions, Dr. Halls," Holmes replied in a threatening tone.

Realizing that this situation was going very badly, I endeavored to prevent it from getting much worse, "Come on Holmes. Let's go. It appears that we won't find what we're looking for here."

Grabbing his arm, I was able to drag my friend out of the office and the institution without incident, but not before both men exchanged heated glares of resentment and offense.

Holmes was quite and sullen on the trip back.

Trying to lighten his mode, I drew his attention back to his case, "Do you think Mr. Davenhoe destroyed his own home?"

Not turning from the window, Holmes waved his hand at my question, "It is possible Watson, but highly unlikely. Mr. Davenhoe is much to frightened at the wreckage to really have done it to himself, Master Nelson is far to protective of his things and privacy to actually destroy his home and risk drawing attention to himself, and Miss Wilson is more concerned about cleaning up messes then causing them. I think it is safe to assume that there is another player in this little game."

"So, you really believe that one man is all those people?"

Holmes did not respond and instead continued to stare out the window, but this time with a more thoughtful than sullen look on his face.

At least he was no longer brooding.


	7. Road Trip!

Summary: Peculiar objects begin to appear in Holmes's Sitting room and Evelyn keeps loosing stuff. Now she embarks on the adventure of a lifetime, just because she feels like it. (Summary due to change soon)

Disclaimer: I do herby certify that I, Amaquieria, do not own, have not own, nor will I ever own Sherlock Holmes, If I did, I would have to give up all rights and ownership to Sesshomaru….wait….I don't own anything about him either?...NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! My life is now meaningless. sob……….Okay, I'm good.

A/N: If you read these annoying author notes, clap your hands………….cricket chirps….I thought so; therefore, I won't waste any more of your time. Onward!!

P.S. Thanks to Sakura for her suggestion and I have now edited this chapter to use trousers instead of pants; however, in Evelyn's POV they will be called pants b/c she's American and we're crazy like that.

**THE MYSTERY OF TIME**

**Chapter 7: Road Trip!!...er…Time Trip!!**

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Present Day California **

Turning around in front of the full length mirror, my green eyes carefully scrutinized my new look. My hair was now cut to just above my ears and fell in thick, glossy black locks and drew out my well defined jaw line. Luckily my chest has always been rather small, so binding it was not difficult. It now looked as if I had a well muscled chest. All in all I looked rather handsome if not a bit like my brother, to my distaste, but there is nothing to be done about that.

Finding money turned out to be much easier. I knew my father collected old foreign currency. All I had to do was mention a growing interest in collecting and my father was more than happy to start me on my way. He said it was a great investment and that he would make a business woman out of me yet. In his dreams, I won't be here long enough for that.

I was also able to acquire some late nineteenth century clothing from a shop specializing in that time era. Apparently quite a few people like reenacting the Victorian era.

All that was left were a few minor details. I would have to lower my voice and practice keeping it there. I can comfortably reach a mid tenor range without it sounding forced, so that's where I'll talk from now on. I also wanted to get a few necessities, such as a gold pocket watch, a nice fountain pen, a good, yet appropriate, set of shoes, and last but not least, a book on English etiquette. It would not do to perform a nineteenth century English faux pas.

I also selected a brief case to put a few other items in should a need them, including a 9mm handgun, pepper spray, and a set of bronze knuckles. It's always nice to be prepared even though I could fight off several men twice my size; at least these gave me more of an advantage. I also decided to bring my walkie, just in case.

Once I was sure I had everything I needed, I closed up the house and left an extensive note telling my family that I had left for a once in lifetime adventure and to not plan on seeing me anytime soon, if at all.

When it came close to 1:32 am, I took up position sitting on my desk with my brief case on my lap. Patiently, I watched the clock on the wall.

1:31.

Any minute I would be in another time and dimension. There was no turning back.

30 seconds.

20 seconds.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

Nothing happened. I looked around the room. Nothing was out of place. Maybe I was too late and the portal was closed for good! Shifting in agitation I began to consider my options. I could always go back to writing my book, but that no longer interested me.

I didn't know what to do with myself. I never considered what I would do should my endeavor fail.

I looked at the clock again. It was 1:34.

Sighing in resignation, I realized I wouldn't get the adventure I was planning on and decided to head for bed.

As I prepared to get up, the room began to glow brighter and brighter, the next thing I new I was falling through colorful tunnel of swirling blue, purple and white.

Just as it started, it stopped, and I found my self landing on a desk, sitting in the exact same position I had been on my desk except for one small caveat. I had been in the process of getting up, and had been using my chair as a stool. There was no chair here.

I ended up falling forward with no way to stop my inevitable collision with a small table. I could only hope it didn't hurt.

My head hit the end of the table and I gasped in pain, then all I knew was darkness.

**Sherlock Holmes Day**

By the time Holmes and I had returned to our little flat, the sun was just beginning to set, enflaming the western sky in a bright, fiery orange.

Holmes had been quiet for the rest of the ride, but I could tell he was thinking on the case. At least he was in a much better mood after being ridiculed by the psychiatrist, but he still seemed inconclusive about the matter at hand. I was never one to questions Holmes methods, but I did wonder what he had hoped to get out of our visit, especially as it seemed he did not find what he desired.

They always say that there is a fine line between genius and insanity; I wonder how true that statement really is when compared to Holmes. Even I think some of his conclusions are insane, but they are always right.

As Holmes and I entered the sitting room, we were greeted by a most peculiar sight. A man was lying face down on the floor with an overturned side table next to him. The man was unconscious and I rushed over to check him.

He had a faint pulse and his breathing was shallow. There was a rather nasty bump on his head where he had apparently hit it on the table. Other than that the man seemed to be alright.

With Holmes help we moved him over to the couch. I once more checked him for any other signs of damage while Holmes picked up the table and placed the man's case on top.

I sat down on the chair from the desk while Holmes came over to inspect the man himself with his keen eyes. As far as I could tell the man had wavy black hair whose length suggested a vagabond, but its neatness and glossy color suggested otherwise. He wore a very nice black coat with matching black trousers and a white, button down shirt under a gray vest. A gold chain could be seen on his vest, most likely attached to a gold watch. The man appeared to be fairly rich.

"I say Holmes, do you have any idea where this chap came from? Or how he got in?"

Holmes sat down in his chair while pulling out his pipe, "Most likely he came looking for assistance and Mrs. Hudson led him in here to wait; however, his clothes and shoes are very new, and I do not appear to have even been outside yet as I see no trace of dirt, water, or scuffing anywhere."

This, of course, confused me very much, "How could he come to see us and not walk outside. That doesn't make any sense. You have to be outside to come inside."

"I agree Watson, it is very peculiar, but that is what the evidence says. This man has just recently acquired his attire, has not even worn it outside, and yet here he is in our sitting room. We will have to wait till our guest awakens to find out the truth. Until then…"

Suddenly the man on the couch gave out a very loud moan, threw his arm across his eyes and attempted to roll over, only to roll off the couch onto the floor.

"Ouch," said a haggard voice. He sounded vaguely familiar, but I could not place it. Slowly the man got up on his knees, but his hair covered any view of his eyes. The man then leaned back on his legs and put his head on the ground with arms wrapped around it. Clearly he had a headache.

"Hello floor, nice to meet you," the man mutely groaned out with his head still on the floor.

I was bewildered as to why any man would talk to the floor and was about to question his sanity when Holmes responded, "I wasn't aware floors could talk."

"They can't. It's called sarcasm." The man than slowly sat up and repositioned himself to lean against the couch with his feet out in front of him. When he looked up, his eyes locked with Holmes and I got a clear view of his vivid green eyes and piercing gaze that seemed to read ones very soul.

The man's eyes widened and seemed to take in all of Holmes appearance before suddenly narrowing in suspicion and ridicule.

"So you're the infamous Sherlock Holmes. You don't look like much to me." The man stated flatly as if in complete boredom with the whole situation.

Clearly ruffled at his remark, Holmes responded. "I'll have you know, sir, that I am the greatest private investigator in all of London."

The man appeared dumbfounded and blinked several times as if to assure him as to what he had just heard and then he started laughing, hysterically.

Holmes stuffed his pipe in his mouth and glared at the man with contempt and barely suppressed rage. Holmes did not like being laughed at.

The man soon calmed down enough to let us in on his joke as he amusedly stated, "London's greatest…snicker…detective and he thinks...snicker…I'm a man." The man then began laughing once again.

Holmes on the other had seemed quite curious as he peered closer at the laughing prone figure. Tapping the end of his pipe on the arm chair, he appeared to be in deep thought, until his eyes suddenly lit up in realization.

"Miss Evelyn I presume."

Having calmed down the man, or should I say woman, sat up and smirked at Holmes, "The one and only, at your service, as you apparently need it."

Once again I saw my friend stiffen in rage. Through clenched jaws he rejoined, "It is certainly not my fault, Miss Evelyn, if you happen to be very masculine."

She stared blankly at Holmes as if she didn't understand what he said, before lighting up into a very wide grin. "Why thank you Mr. Holmes. Your praise is much appreciated."

Clearly this was not the response Holmes was expecting as he glared irritably and contemptuously at the inappropriately dressed woman before him.

Getting up, she brushed imaginary dust off her trousers and took a very domineering and commanding stance that gave her an air of superiority and power, much like a king or, in her case, a queen. "I would really love to stay and chat, but I must find myself some accommodations as I am likely to be here for quite awhile. So if you'll excuse me, I'll take my leave."

Strutting across the room, she seized her briefcase and was out the door before I could comprehend that she had actually left.

I turned to look at my friend, only to see him glaring holes into the wood of the closed door. She had most definitely made it onto the bad side of Holmes.

"My, that was an interesting experience. Don't you agree Holmes?"

"Quite," he said before angrily opening the evening paper.

"Do you think she will be alright on her own?"

"I care not," Holmes curtly replied as he continued to hide behind the paper.

Sighing, I picked up my hat and reached for my coat, "I'm going to go check on her." Leaving my friend to his thoughts, I headed out the door to find the amusing woman.

I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if I didn't know she was alright. London can be a very dangerous place at night, especially for a woman even if she looks like a man.

A/N: Awwww…..isn't that cute. Watson is being all chivalrous and what not. Multi-personality/schizophrenia issues and now gender issues, what more could a story need? Oh, right confusing inter-dimensional travel and this all suppose to make sense.

Lookey, lookey. I'm writing those annoying author notes at the end of the story. Aren't I nice?

And if any of you are confused about the whole time (leaving in the morning, arriving in the evening the day before) issue, trust me, there is a reasonable explanation and it has something to do with unstable wormholes……no, wait that's Stargate…..well it has to do with unstable something, but what? I ain't gonna tell.

All criticisms and advice welcomed, I want the story to be as understandable as possible given my limited writing ability. I have a delusional mind that sees 2-d objects in 3-d space, curse you Mobius. Confusion is imminent.

MWUAHAHAHAHA!!!

Kudos!


	8. Let's Pull a Shakespeare

Summary: Peculiar objects begin to appear in Holmes's Sitting room and Evelyn keeps loosing stuff. Now she embarks on the adventure of a lifetime, just because she feels like it. I can't think up a good summary, so bear with me.

Disclaimer: Life is a cruel and hateful place and because of this eternal truth I cannot lay claim to Sherlock Holmes. Oh, woe is me.

A/N: The next chappie, YAY! Things should start getting interesting and possibly more POV changes. I mostly like to stick to Watson when possible, but Evelyn is sometimes necessary. As always input is welcome though not enforced and please feel free to move about the cabin once we have reached a safe altitude. Thank you.

* * *

**THE MYSTERY OF TIME**

**Chapter 8: Let's Pull a Shakespeare**

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Watson POV**

Once outside, I did not see any trace of the wily woman or any indication on which direction she may have chosen, so I just choose a direction and began looking for any sign of her, but sadly the streets were bare save for a few drunkards here and there.

After about an hour I decided to give up my search and headed back to the flat.

The night wasn't chilly but a cold dampness clung to the air and I was much relieved to get back inside. Holmes was still in his chair, however, now he was intently searching a book. He took no notice of my return.

Sighing in resignation I took a seat upon the couch and waited for Holmes to acknowled my presence.

After some time, Holmes slammed the book shut and threw it to the side.

"Useless," he murmured. Standing up he began to pace in front of me. "I must say Watson I have never encountered a case quite like Mr. Davenhoe. The psychologist and almost all references on mental illness support that our client is merely suffering from a lack of attention and that all his charades are a means of getting that attention."

He then cast his fierce eyes upon me, "But I tell you, that man was not acting. I pride myself on my exceptional observation skills and deductive abilities to be able to correctly determine human nature and intentions. I am certain that when we spoke with Mr. Davenhoe, we also spoke with two other distinct personalities, but I can find nothing to confirm that conclusion except my own observations, which I know are not wrong."

He then threw himself down in his chair and lit his pipe in an agitated manner.

"I understand you're frustration Holme's, but why do you need scientific proof?"

"As I've said before, I have never encountered such a case as Mr. Davenhoe. I was looking for information on his…condition, if you will. To solve a case I need all the facts. This situation of many personalities in one person presents a disturbing fact that may solve this case."

"I don't think I fully understand Holme's, what do you mean?"

"Let me put it this way. Master Nelson is aware of Mr. Davenhoe, but Mr. Davenhoe is not aware of Master Nelson, correct?"

"Oh…yes, I remember."

"And the fact that Master Nelson doesn't like Mr. Davenhoe is also true."

"Very true indeed."

"Now I don't normally share my theories, but this case seems to be an exception to that rule. One of my theories is that Mr. Davenhoe's haunting is nothing more then the attempts of Master Nelson to get rid of him."

"I say Holmes, that is a bit of a stretch. Wouldn't Master Nelson then be getting rid of himself as well?"

"Ah, true, but I do not believe any of the personalities are aware they exist in one body, but in fact believe that they are separate individuals."

"Really Holmes, this theory seems quite unbelievable."

"True it does seem farfetched, but you can't deny the facts. I intend to look more into the matter tomorrow and then I believe another visit to Mr. Davenhoe and his home is in store." With that final decision, Holmes settled himself on his chair and resigned himself to his pipe.

I on the other hand was trying to retain some of my sanity. The mere idea of one person being more than one person was a hard concept to grasp, but then I guess it makes about as much sense as strange objects appearing in ones sitting room.

I then wondered about Miss Evelyn. She was an enigma and had disappeared as quickly as she had appeared. Her possessions were strange enough, but then she had to be dressed up as a man. It was all very confusing and much of her stuff looked like things would expect to see in the future.

The future?

"Holmes," I stated shakily.

He looked up at me, worry etched on his face, "What is it Watson?"

I seemed to lose the ability to talk as the reality of Miss Evelyn began to crash around me. My concerned friend got up from his chair to stand beside me. Putting a hand on my shoulder he asked again, "What is it Watson. You can tell me."

"Do you…do you think…ah…Miss Evelyn is from…from the future?" I turned curious eyes on Mr. Holmes to see his reaction.

At first he seemed to quietly contemplate this possibility before his eyes widened a fraction. "I believe you are right Watson. I had hardly considered the possibility as my attention has been focused solely on my current case. Think about the possibilities if such a thing were true and it would definitely explain how she arrived in our sitting room without having gone outside." He then sat down to once again consider the implications of such a discovery.

Being from the future, I wouldn't be surprised if she knew everything about the past if not more. It would be fascinating to learn what new medical advances they have made in the future. I then realized something else.

"Holmes," he turned his attention toward me again, "If the future holds the possibility of discoveries or understandings we do not have and Miss Evelyn knows this knowledge, could it be possible that she may be familiar with a case such as Mr. Davenhoe?"

At first Holmes seemed contemptuous of such an idea, but then slowly his eyes took on a more decisive look, "You are a genius my dear Watson. Tomorrow we should find the infuriating woman and question her about it. Then we can more readily approach Mr. Davenhoe's peculiar case. As for now I believe it is time for bed."

Just as Holmes was about to leave, another question came to mind, "How do you suppose she and her other items got here Holmes?"

Stopping at the door, Holmes turned to me with a blank look on his face, "I believe that is a mystery for another time, but perhaps Miss Evelyn can enlightens us onto the matter tomorrow. Good Night Watson."

With that he left while I stayed sitting on the couch in contemplation. Sighing, I then got up to head to bed as well, tomorrow would prove to be a very enlightening day, I believe.

**Evelyn's POV**

It was almost too good be true. I really was in an alternate reality. True it was a time period very similar to the past of my reality, but I know for a fact that Holmes is a fictional character there. I may not be an observant person by nature, but anyone would recognize Sherlock Holmes with the detailed description Doyle provided.

I wasn't too worried about returning home as I already knew that this would most likely be a one way trip, but I already knew I would miss some of the modern conveniences.

After leaving Holmes flat, I decided that the best place to catch up on gossip would be the local pub and, given the amount of noise they produce, it wasn't very hard to find. Taking a deep breathe and going into my acting mode, I entered the pub.

The air was thick with smoke and the tang of liquor. Looking around I spotted group of men huddled around a table playing cards while laughing and joking exorbitantly. Next to them was a table with a pale man sitting by himself. He had circles under his eyes and looked for all intensive purposes like he was dead. I decided to start with him.

I walked over to the table and took a seat.

"Good evening," I said deeply. He just looked up at me and gave a small shaky nod. "You look like you could use a drink."

With that I ordered two drinks. He took his shakily, but gratefully. After a while, It calmed him enough to get him to open up a bit. I found out that his name was Isaac Davenhoe and he lived in a very large house just on the outskirts of town. Apparently he thinks he or his house is haunted and hasn't been able to sleep for weeks. At some point the topic turned to my need for a place to stay and Isaac offered to not only let me stay with him, but to pay me for my troubles if I would just stay there with him. He was clearly terrified of hi 'ghost'.

Seeing as how this a perfect opportunity to find a place to stay as well as to come into some more money I readily agreed. There are no such things as ghosts, but I wasn't about to ruin a good opportunity by telling him that. I would just play along until he either croaked from the stress or ran away. Then it was just a simple task of claiming the house for myself. It really was too good of an opportunity.

After a few more drinks, I took a slightly inebriated Isaac back to home where he crashed on a the couch. With him asleep, I decided to take a look around. I soon came upon what looked to be a study, or use to be. Half of it was now it was charred black. It looked like a fire had been through here, either that or some kind of explosion. I noticed a piece of charred metal on the ground and just as I was about to pick it up, a fist made contact with my face and sent me flying to wall.

I looked up to see Isaac Advancing on me rapidly, his eyes livid and dark. Reacting quickly, I jumped into a fighting stance and blocked his next barrage of attacks while he yelled, "Intruder, get out of my house. How dare he invite a stranger into my house. You have no business here. This is my house, my work, and I won't let you destroy it like he did."

I saw my opening and struck. My fist made contact with is chin in a swift upper cut and I sent him sprawling onto the floor. Taking advantage of his disorientation, I pinned him to floor and grabbed his shirt into my fist. I was about to strike again when I was met with fearful, watery eyes.

"P…Please….don't hurt….me," he said in a slightly higher pitched voice. Something wasn't right and I got off him slowly, but kept my guard up. Isaac hunched himself up into a ball while stared at me with puppy dog eyes on the verge of tears. "I…I shouldn't have…interfered, bu…but I couldn't let….M…Master Neslon….hurt a guest."

I slowly dropped my guard as I realized he wasn't going to attack, but continued to look at him critically. I had no idea who Master Nelson, but I had a feeling that the Isaac that attacked me wasn't the same Isaac that invited me to his home. Just great. Of all the people I could have met, I find the one who is insane.

Looking once more at the huddled figure, tree words popped into my head: Dissociative Identity Disorder. It seemed to fit. I remember in one of my acting classes my teacher wanted us to become our characters and emulate someone with a multiple personality disorder or something like that. The idea intrigued me and I had done a little research on the matter. It was considered a very controversial form of psychosis.

Once I realized this, I walked over to the now crying figure and began to rub his back, "I'm sorry, It's okay."

His cries died down a bit after a while. "What's your name?" I asked.

"Marietta Wilson, Miss." She replied through hiccups. At least that confirmed my assumption.

"Well tell you what Marietta. How about you go to bed and rest and I'll deal with Master Nelson, okay."

She looked at me with fearful wide eyes, "Oh no miss. I could never do that. Master Nelson is ruthless. He will kill you." His voice was rising higher and higher until it was almost hysterical.

Patting him on the back, I helped him stand up, "Don't worry about me, Marietta, I can take care of myself. Go get some sleep."

"But.."

"No buts. Now go."

Nodding resignedly, Marietta in Isaac's body made her way out of the room and down the hall.

Sighing in frustration, I sat down on the floor and leaned my head against the wall. "Why me," I wondered as I ran my hand through my hair.

I barely had patience with sane people, but now I was staying with someone suffering from multiple personalities including one that appeared to be homicidal, but if I wanted a house it was best to stay here. Besides, this matter would require careful observation. If I was careful and extremely lucky, I could use Isaac's psychosis for my benefit. Looking around the study I once again notice the blackened walls.

"Besides," I said to myself, "I want to find out what happened here." This adventure was turning out to more interesting than I first planned.

Standing up I brushed some dirt off my pants and began looking around the house once again. It wasn't long before I found a sparsely furnished room with a bed. Thinking it was most likely the guest bedroom, I went in and went to bed. Tomorrow I would find out all I could about Isaac and his friends.

Smiling a mischievous smile I dozed off into the world of oblivion.

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A/N: I's done finally. I don't think this was my best work, I probably rushed a bit, and I may go back and edit it, but this is what I have for right now. Comments, praise, or criticism are at you're command, you need only speak and I will hear; however, listening is a whole other ball of wax.  


	9. It's A Conspiracy!

Summary: Peculiar objects begin to appear in Holmes's Sitting room and Evelyn keeps loosing stuff. Now she embarks on the adventure of a lifetime, just because she feels like it. I can't think up a good summary, so bear with me.

Disclaimer: I own Holmes…..in my dreams, but in reality…….I don't own Holmes……..sigh.

A/N: You're in for a nice surprise……I actually updated, WOOT!...not that I wouldn't, but I bet some people were concerned. It depends on my mood……..I like cheese. You read, while I go get chees, k? Bye.

**THE MYSTERY OF TIME**

**Chapter 9: It's A Conspiracy**

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Evelyn's POV**

I awoke to find myself very disoriented. Where was I? Then I remembered everything: my trip to an alternate reality, my meeting with Isaac, and finding myself in the home of someone whose screws were loose.

Sighing at the injustice of it all, I proceeded to get up and prepared for the day. I decided that my first order of business was to check out the study again, and then I would approach Isaac with my questions.

Cautiously I stepped out into the hallway. It wouldn't do to meet Master Nelson again seeing how I particularly liked living. Once I saw that the hall way was clear, I continued on my way to the study.

The place looked much worse in the daylight as there were no shadows for the charred and blackened walls to blend into. As I walked around I once again noticed the piece of metal that had caught my attention before. Squatting down, I picked it up and began to inspect it. The first thing I noticed has it was twisted and slightly flexed like it had been part of a tube or round object. I noticed lettering under the black filth and assiduously scrubbed it off with the cuff of my sleeve.

I gasped and fell on my rear as I recognized the inscription: NASA. The whole word wasn't there, but enough of it was for me to identify it. What was this doing here? How did it get here? And most importantly, what was I going to do with this knowledge?

Clutching the object to my chest, I hastily stood up and marched out the door. Taking one more look at the object, I shoved into my pockets and set out to find Mr. Davenhoe. He had a lot of explaining to do.

**Watson's POV**

In the morning I came down to breakfast to find Holmes sitting in his chair calmly smoking his pipe while looking intensely at the curious object we had used to talk with Miss Evelyn two nights ago.

Surprised I asked, "Say Holmes, are you going to use that…thing…to talk with Miss Evelyn?"

Emptying his pipe of the charred remains, he replaced the pipe in his coat while turning his attention to me as he replied, "Yes my dear Watson, but it is not I who will speak to her."

Confused I asked, "Then who is she to speak with?"

Leveling me with a stare that left no room for argument he stated, "Why you, of course."

"Me?!" I gaped.

"You don't expect me to deal with that nuisance of woman, do you? Besides, she's more likely to talk to you than to me or have you forgotten her blatant disregard for my personage?"

"No," I responded slowly, "But I wouldn't know what to say?"

Sighing in annoyed patience my friend replied, "Just ask her if she knows anything about multiple persons being in one body." And with that he shoved the black object into my hands and then steepled his fingers together as his eyes coolly watched my endeavor.

Blankly I stared at the object. I remembered that Holmes had pushed the silver button to make it work before. Warily I repeated the action. The Object made a small buzzing noise, but that was all. Casting one more look to my stolid friend, I began to talk to the black object, but not without one last thought; Isn't talking to inanimate objects a sign of insanity?

"Hello," I said and then waited for response. When none came I spoke again, "Miss Evelyn, are you there? This is Dr. Watson." Once again I waited for her reply.

**Evelyn's POV**

No sooner had I left the study then I jumped as I heard a voice say hello. Looking around, I tried to find the source before I realized it had come from my belt where I had decided to clip the walkie-talkie. Holding it in my hand, I debated about whether to answer or not when the person spoke again. My eyes widened as I realized I had left the other walkie-talkie with Mr. Holmes. I made a mental note to get it back before responding.

"Hello Dr. Watson and yes I am here."

"Oh good," he cheerily replied. I tapped my foot impatiently before asking, "Did you need something Dr. Watson or are you just playing around?"

"Oh…yes," he stuttered, cleared his throat, and continued, "You'll have to excuse me, I'm not used to such a…ah…unique form of comminucation."

"Go on," I stated patiently.

"Well you see, Miss Evelyn," he paused as if unsure how to continue, "Holmes is working on a particularly complicated case and he…or I was wondering if you by any chance know anything about multiple persons in one body?" The end was said in a bit of a rush as if he was afraid of my response.

I barked a laugh at his description: multiple persons in one body, indeed. "Yes, Dr. Watson, I know quite a bit about that form of psychosis," I replied evenly while leaning against the wall. Briefly I wondered why he was asking and then I remembered my encounter with Isaac, or should I say Master Nelson. A devious smirk crossed my lips as I asked, "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with Mr. Isaac Davenhoe, would it?"

His surprised gasp was all the answer I needed. Chuckling I said, "I am currently at his house. Meet me here if you wish." With that I ended the connection and turned the walkie-talkie completely off. It would not do to have disembodied voices coming from my pants while I questioned Isaac. The poor man was already out of sorts as it was.

Continuing on quickly I found Isaac in the breakfast room eating his morning meal while swiftly going over the morning newspaper. Taking a seat and helping myself to some toast, I turned my attention to Isaac, "This is a lovely home you have here Is…Mr. Davenhoe."

Carefully folding the paper, his bloodshot eyes looked at me tiredly, "Yes it is, but I wish it weren't haunted. Did you sleep well last night?"

"Wonderfully," I replied. My green eyes avidly watched Isaac as I carefully worded my next question. Putting on an air of boredom and indifference I asked, "Tell me, have you ever heard of the word: NASA?"

Suddenly his eyes darkened and his head drooped, but just as quickly as it came, it left and I found myself no longer staring into blood shot eyes, but intelligent and carefully guarded eyes, "Where did you hear that?"

"No where," I replied non-committedly with a wave of my hand. His eyes narrowed with suspicion before he stated, "You're not from this reality either, are you."

Startled, I carefully reevaluated him.

"And you're not Mr. Davenhoe, are you."

Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair before mumbling, "Yes and no."

A/N: Another chapter, another twist…..I think I may go mad myself. I know it's not very long…tough. Stay tuned till next time. Ba ba da ba dee…That's all folks.


	10. Rich Man's World

Summary: Peculiar objects begin to appear in Holmes's Sitting room and Evelyn keeps loosing stuff. Now she embarks on the adventure of a lifetime, just because she feels like it. Now more maybe at stake then ever before.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes so don't ask.

A/N: Oh woe is college and the hopeless life of a student drowning in the quagmire of work that engulfs his life unceasingly. I hope you enjoy this next chapter born of my sweat and blood and limited free time. I may have some facts and things wrong(too lazy to go look them up) feel free to correct me.

**Prevoiusly:** His eyes narrowed with suspicion before he stated, "You're not from this reality either, are you."

Startled, I carefully reevaluated him.

"And you're not Mr. Davenhoe, are you."

Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair before mumbling, "Yes and no."

* * *

**THE MYSTERY OF TIME**

**Chapter 10: Rich Man's World**

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Evelyn's POV**

"How can you both be and not be Mr. Davenhoe?" I asked.

Clenching his fist the man replied, "Please, just let me speak. I don't have much time."

"What do you…" I shut my mouth at his imploring look. I could see beads of sweat slowly starting to form on his forehead."

"I am Mr. Davenhoe in that I am him from an alternate reality and yet not him for the same reason. Two of the same person cannot exist in the same reality which is why I'm in my current predicament."

"You mean in someone else's head."

"Yes, now please no more comments. I can't remain conscious for long." Carefully he readjusted himself as his breathing became more labored.

"My name is Dr. Golfenberg and I was one of the lead scientists in Techallic Industries."

My breath catches in my throat, but I refrain from speaking.

"We had recently received a grant from NASA to develop a prototype device designed to study the thin barrier between realities. It was NASA's belief that this barrier or membrane allowed alternate realities to influence each other without interacting with each other. They felt that through study of the barrier they could better understand our world and its place in the universe."

Sweat was now dripping from his face and his breathing had become more ragged and intense. He strongly gripped the arms of the chair as if to anchor himself in place. He was slipping fast.

"My employer however saw other uses for such information and began developing a machine not only to observe the membrane, but to influence it and possibly pass through it. As I began to realize his intentions I feared for the stability of not only our reality but the universe and I attempted to sabotage it, to destroy the machine before it could be used for destruction."

Pausing, he gasped for air and his eyes held a faraway look, like reliving a nightmare.

"But something went wrong. My plan backfired and I ended up here. I watched as the machine came with me. It exploded and then it went in reverse like something was sucking it back in, but then I felt myself being tugged, my hands became blurred and the next thing I knew I wasn't alone in my body or what I thought was my body. I ran to the room only to see the charred walls, the last sign of the machine's presence."

Slowly Dr. Golfenberg began to sag in his chair while he continued to talk in a slurred, barely audible speech.

"My intrusion caused Mr. Davenhoe's already split personality to splinter even more and I withdrew myself…to…to…protect myself…I have…I have to…fix…it…the membrane…the machine…the machine…did…something…"

Suddenly his body slumped forward and I reached out to catch him only to have him spring back into an upright position. Crossing his ankles, Mr. Davenhoe began to pat his somewhat ruffled hair and smooth out his shirt before folding his hands neatly in his lap. Then I knew I was speaking to Miss Wilson, only a lady would act like that. Sheepishly she bowed her head.

"How do you do Miss Evelyn. I hope the Nightmare didn't scare you."

"Nightmare?" I asked, intrigued.

Bringing her hands to her lips she replied, "Oh yes miss. A scary monster he is ma'am. He's been causing the mess I've been trying to clean up all this time, miss. Between 'im and Master Nelson, I've got my work cut out for me." Smiling, she stood up and began clearing off the table when the door bell rang.

"I better go see who that is," Miss Wilson stated as she hurried out the room.

I knew it was Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson. Too bad they couldn't have been here to meet Dr. Golfenberg, but then I concluded it was probably best that they hadn't. I decided to keep this incident to myself especially since it involved my brother. I briefly wondered what he could be up to with his interest in alternate realities when I realized my walkie-talkie had worked between realities. Pulling it out, I carefully scrutinized it. I bet Eric designed it for that specific purpose. I was about to fiddle with it more when I heard footsteps coming my way. I quickly put it away just as Miss Wilson entered in.

"It was Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson. They said they wish to meet with you outside and are waiting with a carriage." With that, she returned to her previous task.

I quickly headed out with a new plan of action. I had to figure out what else, if anything, came here from my reality and what my brother was up to. I would also have to figure out what Dr. Golfenberg meant when he said the machine did something to the membrane.

The first place to look, I decided, would be the gossip mill, it always picked up strange occurrences, and Mr. Holmes would make a perfect assistant in this endeavor, he just doesn't know it.

* * *

**WATSON'S POV:**

Holmes and I arrived at Mr. Davenhoe's place of residence not long after my short interchange with Miss Evelyn. I thought it was rather good luck on our part that Miss Evelyn was familiar with Mr. Davenhoe's condition, but Holmes seemed quite annoyed.

I figured it must be because she refused to disclose anything over the device and so, therefore, he would have to deal with her directly in person, but Holmes, I have found, can be a difficult man to understand at times.

It wasn't long before Miss Evelyn came striding out with a very determined look in her eyes. I still found it rather disconcerting how much she looked like a man, and a rather handsome one at that.

Turning to Holmes she said, "Hello Mr. Holmes. It's a pleasure meeting you again."

"Likewise," was his only response.

"And Dr. Watson," she said with a nod.

"Hello Miss Evelyn," I replied with a tip of my hat.

"Now that the formalities are through we can get to business," Holmes said with a gesture toward the carriage, "If you don't mind, Miss Evelyn, you can explain Mr. Davenhoe's condition to us as we travel"

With a nod, Evelyn climbed into the carriage and Holmes and I followed right after. Once seated, Holmes motioned the carriage forward and we were on our way. Holmes then stared expectantly at Miss Evelyn who returned his stare in kind.

Slowly she dropped her gaze to her nails before beginning.

"Well now," she said, "I can start out by saying Mr. Davenhoe is perfectly insane."

Holmes glowered at her.

"And when I mean insane, I mean not by choice. It may seem he's pretending to be different people, like a well trained actor, but in reality," she laughed a little at this statement, "Well, in this reality, he actually is all those different people. Each personality is distinct and separate, but only one is the original personality. According to most of the sources I have read, this multiple personality disorder is a defense mechanism of the mind, a way to defend itself against reality by creating fantasy. It no longer becomes a horror the person faced, but rather a horror someone else faced, in this case the alternate personality. In most cases, the alternate personalities are engineered to address specific stimuli, usually related to the original stimuli that created the personality in the first place, of course, as the personality grows it can deviate into other areas. Now Mr. Davenhoe, I believe, is the original personality, because he is unaware of all the others. That makes him the one being protected."

Stunned, I watched as she leisurely sank back into the hard wooden seat. The mere idea one's personality can become split was hard to comprehend, but Holmes seemed to be taking it all in quite well as he evenly watched Evelyn over his steepled fingers. Slowly he lowered his hands and straightened his posture.

"So it would be safe to say Mr. Davenhoe isn't haunted and no one is trying to hurt him, at least no one but himself."

Evelyn just nodded as she continued to look at here nails. Holmes leaned back in conclusion and I knew our case was solved, but then Evelyn jerked forward and leaned in close to Holmes placing her once interesting hands upon her knees. Her eyes held a mysterious glint and her mouth twitched in an unexpressed smirk.

"But, that's not the end of the story. Someone else created Marietta Wilson and she is a recent addition. I know who and how, but not why and I intend to find out without your help."

I watched as Holmes eyes narrowed at her and he also leaned into her at the challenge.

"I don't take kindly to threats, Miss Evelyn. This is my case. Tell me what you know and I'll decide whether your assistance is required."

"I think not. Besides, you wouldn't know him even if I told you."

Holmes glared at the stubborn woman before us and I realized neither was about to budge.

"Holmes," I said calmly, "Miss Evelyn appears to hold all the cards at the moment. It would be best just to let her guide the investigation until we know more."

With one final glare, Holmes leaned back against the seat, "Very well, Watson, but the moment I suspect foul play. We do things my way."

Smiling, Evelyn nodded and then straightened up to look at as both, "Good. Now that that's settled, the first thing we must do is gather rumors. The man responsible for Marietta Wilson will also be responsible for bizarre occurrences."

Puzzled, I asked, "Bizarre in what way?"

Casting an ominous gaze at me she said, "In the same way my things began to appear in you study bizarre."

At this point Holmes took an interest in the conversation as he asked, "You think the same man is responsible for two different incidents?"

"I know so," she stated confidently, "and this I think is just the beginning. Tonight I plan to visit a couple of taverns. You are welcomed to join me if you like."

Holmes glowered disapprovingly at her. He did not care to have a woman among drunken men, but it seemed there was no stopping her either. Finally he said, "I don't like the idea, but it would appear I have no other choice. I will stop by at 9 to pick you up."

"You don't have to escort me you know."

"Are you familiar with London then?"

I watched as surprise passed over Miss Evelyn's face only to be quickly replaced with cold anger as she tightly pressed her lips together.

"So I'm right. Please be ready by 9," and with that Holmes leaned out the window to talk to the cabby and before long we were back at Mr. Davenhoe's home. Silence permeated the air around us and Miss Evelyn left without even a word of good bye. I watched her stride evenly up to the building with her hands in her pockets and not a single look back. If I didn't know better, I would have said she was happy with how things turned out.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter, and more secrets told. Where will this lead to?...even I don't know. If you were confused in any way, let me know and I'll edit accordingly, unless the confusion was meant to be there. I had trouble being very coherent while writing this chapter, sleep deprivation tends to do that to one. I depend on my readers to catch my mistakes, as I've said before, I'm lazy. -.-

I come with pretty strange names.


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